


tales of an island

by cosmicpoet



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 09:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15638238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpoet/pseuds/cosmicpoet
Summary: Angie misses her home, misses how everyone would look to God for faith and comfort. And when she needs those things, where can she turn?





	tales of an island

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SquishyWishes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquishyWishes/gifts).



Angie walks away from Himiko with softness in her step. She’s been wondering for a while now, whether anyone truly listens to her. For her, the stories of her island are filled with wonder and peace, a place that she yearns to go back to - it seems like a universe away, now, just a figment of a long-gone imagination; her heart pulls at her chest as though it’s trying to break free and fly on the south winds back to her home.

She misses it, of course. Everything in this Ultimate Academy is too harsh, too bright. The overhead lights are so artificial, and even her talent lab feels false by nature and virtue of its own existence - the mastermind of all this, with their knowledge of them all, could have at least created an outdoor area just for her. But they didn’t.

Things on the island were better. She was - and is - Atua’s messenger, and with that came grace and glory, people who smiled at her in respect for their mutual God. Here, nobody has faith in anything other than detectives and murder and the horrible stench of thick, hot, blood. She’s been dethroned, not that royalty ever mattered to her, but it hurts even more to know that belief is quenched and crushed here. Without people to believe in Atua, Angie Yonaga does not matter.

And does she try to convert them? Of course she does. That’s what she was taught by the elders, to spread the word of Atua to everyone, but she’s always been taken seriously before in her life, so everything here is foreign to her. When she mentions blood sacrifices, an ancient and sacred ritual, she gets laughed at. People seem to treat her differently.

She’s heard stories of this, before, told around the little beach fires, of the days before the island, where people on the outside would be discriminated against for skin colour, religion, sexuality. All of these things that Angie embraces about herself, sees as divine proof of Atua’s will, she now feels alienated by. By everyone, at least, but somehow not by Himiko.

See, Himiko seems to listen to her stories when she talks of her island. Himiko wants to visit, when all this is over, and they can dance together as the sun sets and paint by the shore; it’s no longer about bringing new faith to Atua, but about having a friend to see past the idea of being a messenger and work her way deep into the heart of Angie Yonaga. Because as much as she would like to convince herself otherwise, she’s still mortal, and sometimes, she needs love that’s for her, not for Atua.

The thought makes her sad. Words of blasphemy worming their way onto her tongue; she’s damned herself, now, being in this Ultimate Academy, failing to focus wholly on Atua. And there are thousands of words to describe this: guilty, remorseful, aching. But ‘sad’ will do.

There aren’t any sickles anywhere to be found. This, if anything, just makes her feel even more alienated. Traditions that she held close to the essence of her soul; things that brought her together with her found family, are now laughed at and shunned off by people who think that Atua is just all in her mind. Can’t they see? He might be in her mind, but that’s just where he lives whilst she’s his messenger. That doesn’t make him fake, nor does it negate the faith of hundreds of people who are all probably wondering where she is right now.

She settles for drawing a detailed picture of a sickle and putting it up in her window. If anything, it might protect her from bad spirits and nightmares if she falls asleep, alone. It’s easy to expect to be alone in here - she’s never _truly_ alone, not with Atua by her side. And being on her own means that nobody is going to come in and steal the light from her heart, either her life or her faith, both of equal importance.

If she has her God with her, then why is she so lonely?

The last thing she expects is a knock on her door, muted and soft. She hasn’t locked it, and she just murmurs a quick greeting; it opens.

And there’s Himiko, a tray in her hands with two cups of warm tea on it.

“I saw your sickle drawing,” she says, “and, uh, I was making some tea for myself to keep me awake, so, you know, I made you one too.”

“Oh, Himiko, thank you!” Angie says, false positivity in her voice. Of course, she’s grateful, but she’s still _sad;_ to put a sickle in one’s window is not to be taken lightly and cannot be solved by one cup of tea. Such material goods have no power against the faith of Atua.

“Nyeh, you don’t need to be so positive all the time,” Himiko drawls, sitting down next to Angie, “I remembered what you said about putting a sickle in your window, so I came to cheer you up.”

“This is truly divine! Company from the Ultimate Mage herself, Atua is very happy!”

“And what about Angie? Is she happy?”

“I…uh…yes, I am,” Angie says, not used to being so open, “of course I am. Atua says that acts of kindness do not go unnoticed! You’ll be rewarded for this in the next life!”

“Right, yeah. But I don’t wanna talk to Atua. No offence, but I’m here to talk to my friend Angie. Is that okay with you, Atua?”

Angie slowly, cautiously, nods.

“‘Cause,” Himiko continues, “you’re not just a divine messenger or something like that. You’re my friend before anything else.”

“Friend? That’s…strange. I’ve never been called a friend before. I’ve been called _blessed,_ and _divine,_ and even _leader,_ but never…”

“Well, that’s ‘cause everyone sees you through Atua and not for who you really are, you know? You’re Angie, and you’re talented and good regardless of Atua.”

“But Himiko, all of my work is created by Atua! He merely wills me so.”

“And who’s hands create the art? Who loses sleep over the paintings? It’s you, Angie. Don’t tell me that you’re not at least somewhat involved.”

“I…”

“Anyway, I should go. I only came to give you some tea and have a little talk. I have to sleep, and you should, too. It’s late. And tomorrow, we’ll pray together.”

“Together?”

“Yeah,” Himiko says, “we can be equals in prayer.”

Once Himiko has left, Angie removes the sickle drawing from her window and sleep overcomes her, a smile on her face and God in her heart, inching over for the first time in forever to make room for some emotion, some love, that’s completely and only Angie’s.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday fic written for my wonderful friend Space! I hope you have the best birthday ever!
> 
> If you liked this, please comment!


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